


Old Friends

by ellerkay



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4619409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt: "The current set of the Doctor + companions (eleven, Rory, Amy, and also River if you want to include her) attempting to work with Dumbledore to accomplish something."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Friends

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after 'A Good Man Goes to War' for DW (sort of, in a cracky way which ignores nearly everything going on) and during Half-Blood Prince for HP.

“I’m not saying you haven’t worked with less – ”  
  
“And done well,” the Doctor jumped in.  
  
“And done brilliantly,” River agreed. The Doctor grinned proudly.  
  
“I’m just saying,” she continued, “that even by your standards, ‘Let’s kill Hitler’ isn’t much of a plan.”  
  
“Well, I suppose you’re right,” he conceded. “Plans are good. Plans are less fun, but they’re good. Fortunately – ” He dashed to the Tardis console and began madly pushing buttons, turning knobs, and pulling levers. “I happen to have a very old friend with some expertise in the general area.”  
  
***  
  
“Watch who you’re calling old,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “Compared to you I’m nothing but a young whippersnapper.”  
  
“But you have to admit I’ve kept better,” the Doctor said.  
  
“Yes, but you cheat. You always cheat.”  
  
“It’s not cheating if it’s in your DNA! Besides, I don’t cheat.”  
  
“Oh yes, you do,” Dumbledore countered. “Don’t you remember that time with the centaur –”  
  
“He had it coming!” the Doctor shouted. “What with all the – ”  
  
“That’s no excuse.” Dumbledore took a serene drink from the bottle he was holding, while the Doctor began laughing so hard butterbeer shot out of his nose.  
  
Amy wandered away, disgusted. They had been in this man’s bizarre office for twenty minutes and the Doctor and Dumbledore had done nothing but drink and talk about old times.  
  
“I don’t even understand what they’re saying,” she said to Rory, flopping down in a chair next to him. Rory was staring openmouthed around the room at the moving paintings, silver instruments, and various other strange and marvelous things.  
  
“I don’t understand any of this,” he replied. River, who had been chirping at a large, beautiful red bird on a perch, came over to join them.  
  
“Surely you two have old friends,” she said. “When you’ve known someone long enough, you’ve got all this overlapping history. You can tell a story without really telling it, talk without finishing sentences.”  
  
“Yes, but we’re supposed to be figuring out how to we’re going to kill Hitler,” Amy replied impatiently.  
  
“Quite right,” the Doctor said from across the room, and leaned in towards Dumbledore with a serious face. “I thought you might have some ideas.”  
  
“What on earth makes you think that?”  
  
“Come on, Albus.”  
  
“He’s just a Hitler analogue, you know.”  
  
“Closest I’m likely to get. You must have a plan.”  
  
Dumbledore snorted. “Surely you’re joking. I have a board full of the names of magical objects. I throw a dart and whatever it lands on, I assume that’s a Horcrux.”  
  
“And that’s working for you, is it?”  
  
“Well, I’m very good at darts.” The Doctor raised his eyebrows, and Dumbledore sighed. “I think I know what has to happen. But…” He shook his head. “It’s terrible. Entirely unfair. I’m looking for another way.”  
  
“What happened to your hand?”  
  
They both looked at it Dumbledore’s black, brittle left hand, and then he tucked it into a pocket. “It’s a long story.”  
  
“I’ve got time.”  
  
“You always have time.” Dumbledore started to smile, but it faded before it reached his eyes. “Unfortunately, I don’t.”  
  
“Well.” The Doctor sprang to his feet, and Dumbledore rose more slowly. “That’s that then.”  
  
“What’s what?” Amy asked.  
  
“Pond, as with most journeys, we have learned that we already knew what to do when we started. The magic was inside us all along, there’s no place like home, if you build it he will come – and I work best _without_ a plan.”  
  
“Great.” Amy rolled her eyes. “Brilliant. Hitler could be dead already.”  
  
“No, he couldn’t. Well, yes, he could. Actually – no, there’s no way to express what I want to say in this limited language.” Amy, Rory, and River waved goodbye to Dumbledore and went back into the Tardis.  
  
“Take care of yourself, Albus,” the Doctor said, and they shook hands.  
  
“I can’t promise anything,” Dumbledore replied. “And I’d say the same to you, but – ”  
  
“You know I wouldn’t promise, either.” The Doctor gave him a two-finger salute. “Cheers. Don’t plan too much.” He went back into the Tardis and closed the door behind him. Dumbledore watched it fade away, then glanced down at his blackened hand.  
  
“If only I could,” he said quietly.


End file.
